


i'm sorry lover (these days i tend to lie)

by cooliohoolio



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cooliohoolio/pseuds/cooliohoolio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick Stump loves his life. He's got a job he loves, a nice apartment, and his boyfriend, Pete Wentz, is absolutely amazing. He's got it made. </p><p>However, not everything is sunshine and rainbows in Patrick's world. He's also a superhero known as <i>Soundwave</i>, and Patrick constantly has to lie to Pete in order to keep him safe and Soudwave's identity a secret. </p><p>Always having to deceive the love of his life leaves Patrick feeling awful and Pete suspicious, and in the end Patrick's unsure if he can keep his alter-ego hidden while keeping their relationship intact.</p><p>All in all, Patrick's pretty fucking stressed out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm sorry lover (these days i tend to lie)

**Author's Note:**

> wow, this took forever to finish. i kinda lost interest halfway through so it made wrapping this up painfully slow, but hey! it's finally finished and i kind of like how it turned out. so hurray. time to move on to other projects.
> 
> big thanks to [lonediagonal](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonediagonal/pseuds/Lonediagonal) for being an a+ beta/cheerleader! thank you for all the times you helped me out with ideas and i wish all the luck to you and your fics!!
> 
> title is a reference to amsterdam by imagine dragon. pretty good song, go listen to it. 
> 
> and without further ado, enjoy the fic!
> 
> edit** god fucking dammit the italics html didnt save ignore all the slashes (/) that are in this while i fix that  
> edit #2** fixed

Movie superheroes had it a _lot_ easier than actual ones.

That was Patrick’s first thought as he flew through the air and into downtown Chicago, where Andy had informed him shit was being wrecked.

And wrecked it was.

Yet _another_ supervillain had come up with the “original” idea that building a gigantic robot was the way to get the entire town to cower beneath them, as if _that_ cliché hadn’t been played out enough. Patrick (or Soundwave, as he was known to local newspapers) was just about sick of it.

 _If you’re gonna be evil, at least be creative about it,_ Patrick thought as he hovered above the robot that was currently chasing civilians and crushing automobiles. It was like someone had taken a Transformer, downsized it, and crossed it with a snake. How fucking generic was that?

The machine’s red eyes locked onto the superhero, whose yellow and black spandex practically glittered in the sunlight.

“Soundwave!” Patrick could practically hear the sneer in the dude’s voice, “What a wonderful surprise to see you here!” The robot paused its destruction and stared up at Patrick, who levitated a few feet from its “face”.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Patrick rolled his eyes, “Hurry up with your villain shtick, I don’t have all day. Let’s get this over with.” He pretended to glance at his wrist to prove his point.

However, in the place of more dull villain speeches, Patrick got a metal robot arm knocking him from the sky.

He hit the ground with a crash, his body burning from the impact of the robot and how hard he fell. The superhero was stunned for a few moments, ears ringing and vision blurry.

 _That’s a new one,_ He thought as he tried to push himself from the ground, only to have a massive robot leg kick him hard on his side and slide him halfway down the destroyed street.

“That exciting enough for you, Soundwave?” The villain inside the mecha taunted as his machine made its way down the street to beat Patrick up some more.

Patrick pushed himself off the ground, his head spinning. Regardless, he stared down the machine and rose up into the air again, this time out of range of the robot. He took a deep breath and focused on the machine, allowing his hearing to momentarily improve as he drew sound energy from the air. He then did what he did best.

He took the sound and made it dangerous.

The was a split second of silence as Patrick released the energy directly at the robot, but it was quickly followed by the sound of glass breaking and the villain screaming as the pressure of the sound hit him. Patrick took advantage of the now-exposed villain's vulnerability and swooped down into the cockpit of the mecha and grabbed him.

Patrick seized the villain by the collar and yanked him from the controls. The bad guy was passed out, with a little line of blood running from his ear, but Patrick didn’t think he was dead. Probably deaf for the rest of his life, but not dead, and that’s what mattered to him.

The superhero floated down to the ground with the unconscious villain in his grasp. There was applause from the civilians and useless police officers as he landed, and Patrick couldn't help but smile. 

However hard it may be, Patrick loved his job and wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He quickly went through the motions of handing the baddie off to the police to take to the slammer, and expertly dodging people as they tried to thank him.

Patrick quickly ducked into an alley, making sure no one was following him. His sides hurt like a bitch, they’d most definitely be bruised for a while and he probably had some sort of internal bleeding. He quickly brushed away that idea, not liking the thought of being hospitalized while villains ran rampant. His superhuman genes would heal him, no need for any trip to the doctor.

Or so he hoped.

The superhero leaned against the brick alley wall and pulled out his cellphone to call Andy and inform him that he’d done his job.

Andy was like his very own bat signal of sorts; whenever shit hit the fan somewhere in town, he called Patrick to clean it up. He was one of the few people who knew about Patrick’s alter ego Soundwave, and was a very useful associate to have.

He was also one of Patrick’s very best friends.

Patrick dialed the number, ignoring the ache in his sides. He put the phone to his ear and listened to the repetitive rings as he waited for Andy to pick up

Andy answered on the fifth ring and said, “Good job, _Soundwave._ ” as soon as he picked up.

“News travels that fast, huh?” He peeked out of his little alleyway and down at the wrecked street where they were still trying to clean up. News vans were parked everywhere, all of them trying to get the story out first.

“Yeah, you’re all over TV right now,” Andy told him, “I can’t watch anything without seeing you in that dumbass outfit.”

“You love the spandex, don’t lie to yourself,” Patrick teased, smiling, “Anyone complaining about what a mess I made yet?”

“The people on Channel 10 have just started to touch in the damage that robot thing did,” Patrick could hear a TV in the background, “And apparently your soundwave broke more than the robot, they’re bitching about all broken windows in the buildings on the street.”

“Better than broken bones,” Patrick replied, sighing. People always had to find something to complain about.

“Hey, speaking of bitches” Andy said, his tone changing, “I just remembered, Pete called me earlier. He asked me where you were and he sound pis--”

“ _SHIT_ ” Patrick cut Andy off and hung up, quickly checking his missed calls. 30 or so were from his boyfriend.

The boyfriend who had spent 2 weeks planning a nice date for the two of them that Patrick had _completely forgotten about._

He looked down at his clothes and saw he was still wearing his superhero spandex. He rose up into the air and flew as fast as he could to the nearest gym, where he hid his normal clothes while he was out superhero-ing.

He changed into the formal wear he had hidden away for occasions like these, and hurried out of the gym. Pete was going to be so _pissed._

Patrick debated whether stopping for flowers was worth it. He ducked into a small store and picked up his boyfriend’s favorites before hurrying along his way.

Arriving at the restaurant, Patrick had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Hello, sir, how many do you have in your party and do you have any reservations?” The woman stationed at the front desk asked him the rehearsed line with a bored expression plastered over her face.

“Uh, actually I was looking for my boyfriend?” He said, uncomfortable with the way she was gazing at him, a mix of contempt and boredom in her expression. She tapped her fingers on the wood of the desk and popped her chewing gum loudly, “He has the reservations under the name Pete Wentz.”

The woman checked the list in front of her and hummed.

“He left about 15 minutes ago, sorry sir,” She told him, twirling her pen and pointing at the yellow flowers in Patrick’s hand, “And judging by his expression when he left, you’re going to need more flowers.”

His shoulders slumped and he turned around to make his way back to the bus stop, barely catching the waitress’s unenthusiastic “Have a good day!” Pete had the car, which meant Patrick had to take public transportation over to their shared apartment.

Patrick sat down on the bus, worry coating his thoughts. Pete was, at the best of times, a gigantic child, but Patrick loved him and hated when he sulked. He’d probably be pouting for at _least_ the next week or so. He glanced at the flowers and sighed. The waitress was right, he probably needed a lot more if he was gonna win Pete over.

The bus slammed on its brakes, throwing Patrick up against the seat. He let out a hiss of pain, his hurt sides not allowing themselves to be forgotten.

 _At least I didn’t crush the flowers_ , He thought unhappily as he made his way off the bus.

Patrick stood in front of the door of his apartment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He hated lying to Pete, but there was no way his boyfriend could find out about his other life. It would be like painting a target for all the supervillains that wanted to hurt Soundwave, and there was no way Patrick could put Pete in that kind of danger.

He took a deep breath and opened the door to a quiet apartment, the only sound coming from the TV in the bedroom.

“Pete?” Patrick asked, making his way down the hall where their bedroom was. He pushed open the door and saw Pete lying in the bed, facing away from the door.

“I brought you flowers,” He said, setting them down on the nightstand. Pete made a noise and pulled the blankets tighter around him.

Patrick slipped off his jacket, dropping it on the floor and crawled into the bed.

For a moment, the TV was the only sound in the room.

_“In other news, recently there was a battle between the superhero Soundwave and a villain piloting a giant robot in downtown Chicago…”_

“Pete, look, I’m sorry--” Patrick began, but Pete cut him off.

“That’s the _third_ time this month, Patrick!” His boyfriend rolled over to face him, anger and hurt prominent on his face, “I’ve been planning this for two weeks, and you stood me up. You actually think _flowers_ are going to make up for that?”

“My grandma keeps getting worse, I don’t know how long she has left!” The lie slid off of his tongue too easily, too naturally, “I want to visit her while I still can. Time got away from me.”

Pete was quiet for a minute, “You’ve got to keep better track of time,” He said softly, his expression becoming gentler, “I know you love your granny, but I love you too. I deserve some of Patrick’s attention, too, being your future husband and all.”

He cracked a grin and Patrick felt some of his worries melt away.

Patrick scooted closer to Pete to give him a small kiss on the cheek, “Yeah,” He smiles delicately, “I guess you do.”

Pete rolled onto his back and Patrick snuggled into his side.

“Why is it so hard to stay mad at you?” Pete questioned aloud, pressing a kiss to the top of Patrick’s head. Patrick let out a small laugh.

“Because I’m so adorable, that’s why,” He teased, smiling at Pete. His boyfriend just nodded solemnly, but broke into a laugh seconds later.

“You are 100% correct, ‘Trick” Pete ruffled Patrick’s hair playfully, “Your cuteness is my kryptonite.”

Patrick let out an evil laugh and stole some of the blankets away from Pete.

They sat there snickering until they settled into an easy silence, both of them just enjoying the other’s presence and not saying a word.

“Pretty crazy, that Soundwave guy,” Pete commented, breaking the silence.

“Absolutely insane,” Was all Patrick said in reply.

-

“Okay, what the fuck?!” Pete threw the Wii controller onto the ground in anger after losing to Patrick in Mario Kart for the 5th time, “This is bullshit and you’re both cheating.”

Patrick and Andy rolled their eyes in unison.

“We’re not cheating, you just suck at Mario Kart,” Andy pointed out matter-of-factly, “And maybe if you’d stop picking baby Luigi every time--”

“ _Excuse you_ , baby Luigi is great!” Pete exclaimed in mock offense, “Fuck you, Hurley, what do you know about video games?? _Nothing,_ that’s what!”

“Everyone with half a brain cell know the baby characters are the worst--”

“Bullshit!”

Patrick watched them bicker with a small, amused smile on his face.

“ _I_ think,” Patrick butted into the conversation, “That both of you are nerds who care too much about Mario Kart--”

“Oh shut up, Patrick!” Pete said, but his tone was teasing. He laid himself over Patrick’s legs and stared up at his boyfriend, “Everyone here knows you’re the biggest nerd in this room.”

“He has a point.” Andy shrugged, indifferent.

“I _am_ not--”

“‘Trick,” Pete grabbed Patrick’s face, “You own every Bowie, Prince, and Michael Jackson album ever--” Pete's "Patrick-is-huge-dork" tirade was cut off by the shrill ringing of his phone, and he sat up to look at it.

“Shit, it’s my boss,” Pete cringed, “I think I’m supposed to be at work right now, so I’m gonna have to step outside to take this.”

Patrick and Andy nodded and Pete got up, answering the phone with, “Hello, this is Pete Wentz,” before walking into the kitchen.

Watching him walk away, Patrick felt warm and content. Love for Pete swelled in his chest and he realized with a start that he nothing would make him happier than to spend the rest of his life with Pete Wentz.

Patrick pondered this for a quick second.

“I think I want to marry Pete,” Patrick said quietly, still looking at the door to the kitchen. He noticed Andy fixing him with a firm stare, and an uncomfortable feeling arose in his stomach. He knew where this conversation was headed, and didn’t want to talk about it at all.

“If you’re gonna marry him, you’re going to have tell him about Soundwave,”

Having expected it or not, Patrick felt his blood run cold. It was something he didn’t like thinking about often, but he knew this conversation was inevitable.

“No, I can’t, Andy,” He couldn’t tell Pete. Telling Pete was not an option, “It would put him in too much danger--”

“Pete’s an adult, Patrick,” Andy lowered his voice, wary of Pete overhearing from the kitchen, “He’s big boy who can fend for himself. He doesn’t need you acting like his mom.”

Patrick stared at his shoes, not sure of what to say.

“You’d get it if--” Patrick was cut short by Pete re-entering the room with a relieved sigh.

The look Andy was giving him clearly said _if what?_

“My boss is a fucking dic--hey, what’d I miss?” He glanced between Andy and Patrick, picking up on the tension. Patrick was still staring at his shoes, not wanting to look neither Andy nor Pete in the eyes.

(He would never say this out loud, but he feared if he looked at Pete, he would see all the guilt and shame that built up in Patrick every time he had to lie to Pete)

“Rickster, you alright?” Patrick glanced up, and saw the worry etched into Pete’s face, his brow furrowed in concern. Patrick smiled at that, loving his boyfriend and his dumb facial expressions.

“I’m fine,” Patrick lied, his mind still on the conversation he and Andy had been having, “I think I’m starting to get a headache. We could play another game and then maybe go home?”

“No way, if you’re not feeling well, we’re leaving now and I’m making you soup or some shit,” Pete kissed Patrick on the forehead, “Actually, I don’t think I know how to make soup, so you’ll just have to settle for Chinese takeout.”

“Woe is me,” Patrick deadpanned with an undertone of amusement.

“And,” A shit-eating grin crept up Pete’s face, “People who don’t feel well get bridal-carried to the car by their incredibly sweet boyfriends.”

“Pete, _no_ \--” Patrick flailed to try and stop Pete from picking him up, but was lifted into his boyfriend’s arms anyways.

Andy gagged. “Both of you go be disgustingly domestic somewhere else,” He got up and opened the door for Pete, who was still carrying Patrick (much to the latter’s displeasure), “I refuse to have you two being all lovey-dovey in my apartment”

Pete laughed his great, braying laugh that always made Patrick grin.

His smile may’ve faltered when Andy fixed him with a knowing glare, but Pete didn’t notice and that was all Patrick cared about.

-

Two weeks later, Pete is no longer sore about the skipped dinner and they had another date scheduled, which Patrick was _determined_ not to miss this time. Fuck the city, if it could fend for itself before Patrick and it can fend for itself for a day, goddammit.

At least, that’s what Patrick keeps telling himself as he gets ready. Glancing at his phone every five seconds was purely habit, he thought to himself as he fastened his tie, he _definitely_ wasn’t expecting to see Andy’s name when he looked over. This was a him-and-Pete day, city be _damned._

“Paaaatriiiick” Pete whined, coming up behind his boyfriend and wrapping his arms around his torso, “Hurry up, I want to romance you. You being slow is getting in the way of all the grand romantic gestures I have planned.”

Patrick looked at Pete’s reflection and rolled his eyes, smirking, “Like what?”

“This,” Pete planted a sloppy kiss on Patrick’s cheek, then a couple more across the rest of his boyfriend’s face, before Patrick swatted at him, laughing.

“I see,” Patrick turned around, dropping a kiss on Pete’s cheek, “Very romantic” Then he went off in search of his suit jacket, which was around there somewhere. As he shrugged it on, he had a feeling that tonight was going to be great, with Soundwave the furthest thing from anyone’s mind.

“You ready?” Pete poked his head through the bedroom door, and Patrick nodded.

They walked out of the apartment with their hands linked, Pete talking animatedly about dogs and Patrick laughing when he announced he wanted to get a bulldog, could they please get a bulldog, _please._

When they both got into the car, Pete in the driver’s and Patrick in the passenger’s, the sun was setting and the gold light fell on Pete’s lively face in just the right way. It highlighted his lively brown eyes and turned them a rich honey color, which Patrick thought suited him perfectly. Contentment swelled in his chest, and for a moment, he wasn’t a superhero, Soundwave didn’t exist, he was just Patrick and he was living a normal life, exactly where he was supposed to be with his incredible boyfriend at his side.

“‘Trick? Are you listening?” The moment was broken, and Pete was looking at him curiously, “Earth to Patrick.” Patrick blinked, then smiled warmly at him.

“I’m just thinking about how lucky I am,” He told Pete honestly, to which Pete responded with a grin and a quiet, “love you”.

The rest of the car ride was filled with banter and Patrick trying to explain than, no, they couldn’t get a dog, their apartment had rules against pets, are you even _listening_ , Pete?

They arrived at the elegant restaurant, this one fancier than the last, with a pretentious French-sounding name and everything. They entered the establishment holding hands, effectively ignoring the looks of disdain the uppity elderly man at the counter gave them.

They were seated, the low lights of the restaurant not concealing the disapproving glares he cast at them as they were led to their table. Naturally, the old guy left and they began shit-talking him, Pete kissing Patrick on the cheek then laughing at the old man’s disgusted face.

“Patrick,” Pete said as he squinted at the menu, “You speak French, right?”

“A little, why?” Patrick answered, looking up from his phone.

“This entire menu is in French and I can’t read a damn thing,” His boyfriend complained, setting the menu down, “I’m going to end up ordering snail ass or something, you’ve got to help me.”

Patrick laughed, but before he got a chance to reply, his phone began to ring loudly, attracting scowls from the other patrons.

His heart sunk when he saw Andy’s name on the smartphone's screen. There went his perfect night.

“Hello?” He answered, trying to ignore the looks Pete was giving him.

“Hey, Patrick, you gotta get downtown,” Andy’s high-pitched voice filled his ear, and all Patrick’s hopes that the call had been a butt dial or something flew out the window, “There’s a woman holding up a bank, and I think she has powers but I’m not sure. I know you’re on a date and everything, but I tried calling all the other superheroes I know and all of them were busy with another bad guy. Sorry.”

Patrick’s distress must’ve been evidenced on his face, because Pete was looking at him with worry, which made Patrick’s guilt increase tenfold.

“Okay, okay,” Patrick glanced over at Pete, and let out a sigh, “I’ll be down as soon as I can.” With that he hung up the phone, and prepared to tell Pete that the date he’d so meticulously planned out was about to be ruined, yet again. 

“My grandma’s had a heart attack, I need to get down to the hospital,” The lie slid out smoothly, which only made Patrick’s heart sink lower, weighed down by guilt, “I’m really sorry, Pete.”

(The conversation he’d had with Andy only a week earlier was at the forefront of his mind)

Pete only nodded solemnly, but his disappointment was betrayed by his body language and facial expression.

“I get it,” Pete told him, “If I was in your place I’d do the same thing. I’m sorry about your grandma.”

“Yeah,” Patrick got up from the table, and gave Pete a quick kiss, “Me too.”

Walking out of the restaurant, he didn’t look back. Seeing Pete that sad and crushed couldn’t be good for his health.

Using public transit this much couldn’t be that good for his health either, he thought begrudgingly as he got onto the bus headed towards the gym that contained his superhero garb, but Patrick just couldn’t leave with the car. At least let Pete have that.

Patrick most definitely did not think about Pete driving home all alone after a ruined evening.

He got off the bus, into the gym and his super suit in a blur, wanting to hurry up and get this stupid bank robbery out of the way so he could go home and cuddle with Pete to try and make up for being a shitty boyfriend.

Flying up into the air, Patrick rapidly made his way towards the bank, because as much as he hated having to leave his boyfriend alone at the restaurant, he was also worried that he’d taken too long. He felt like anyone killed in this robbery would be blood on his hands.

The bank was huge, big enough for Patrick to fly past news crews and worthless police officers, and when inside, rise up and be a considerable distance off the ground but not on the ceiling.

Inside, a pale woman with jet-black hair and bangs was holding up two guns as the civilians on the ground around her cowered and sobbed. Her face was like stone, unfeeling and hard, which made Patrick uneasy.

“Soundwave,” She called up, voice flat and icy “What a _wonderful_ surprise.”

“Get on with it,” He shouted back, afraid to use his sound powers due to the mass amount of civilians in the room. Collateral damage wasn’t anything that Patrick wanted to deal with.

“That’s not polite, you’re supposed to introduce yourself” The woman said coldly, “I’ll go first, then: My name is Asher, and I have two demands: one, I want the vaults emptied and all of it given to me, and two, I want my boyfriend released from prison.

“Otherwise, they all die.” Asher made a sweeping gesture around the room with her guns, “I will _personally_ make sure that there are no survivors. They don’t call me Asher for nothing.” She dropped one of the guns and engulfed her hand in flame.

Patrick’s mind reeled, trying to think of a plan. He was dealing with a super-powered villain, who he couldn’t use his powers against due to the amount hostages in the room.

In short, he was kind of fucked.

He looked around the room and his eyes locked on someone entering silently from one of the back rooms, a man with an impressive afro. His eyes were trained on Asher, and Patrick swallowed. Now was no time for a civilian to try and play hero.

Then suddenly, the man shot a glance at Patrick and nodded. Trying to be discreet as possible, the man put a hand up and it froze over, and realization dawned on Patrick.

The guy was obviously trying to say _distract her._

Patrick focused his attention back on Asher, trying to figure out a good way to keep her distracted.

“I don’t even know who your boyfriend is,” He yelled down at her as the man slowly got closer, “How do you expect me to get him free?”

Asher smiled an icy smile, “Oh, I’m sure you’re very familiar with him, Soundwave,” She said his alias like it was a plague, “Why, just a couple of weeks ago you destroyed his machine and threw him into prison. You almost deafened him too, but luckily they were able to recover most of his hearing. The name Cobra ring any bells?”

Patrick racked his mind, and yes, it did. He vaguely remembered Andy mentioning that the robot destroying the city was made by a notorious villain named Cobra. Patrick didn’t really keep up with supervillains, though, just came when called, so he’d never heard of Cobra’s vengeful partner.

The man was almost upon the Asher, but she must’ve noticed Patrick glancing behind her. Right before the man used his powers to get her to chill, she turned around and shot fire at the man, causing him to jump back and stumble in surprise.

“That’s it, this place is going up in flames!” Asher shouted, but before she could do anything Patrick rushed down and tackled her to the ground, willing the other superhero to get up so he could freeze her.

The other hero recovered from his shock, and hurried over, quickly making frost form across the skin of the villain. Patrick jumped up so he wouldn’t be caught in the ice, but in doing so he saw the way Asher’s hateful expression froze over, pure rage captured in her eyes until she thawed.

With that settled, everyone in the bank cheered, and Patrick smiled at the other hero.

“Don’t believe we’ve ever met,” He approached the man, admiring his massive curls and superhero outfit that was almost as shitty as his own, “I’m Soundwave, but I’m guessing you know that.”

“Freezerburn,” The man said, offering Patrick a lazy smile, “But you can call me Joe. Andy’s said a lot about you, you’re Patrick, right?”

For a moment, Patrick’s stunned. Not only does this guy know Andy, but also his real name. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t make him extremely uneasy.

“Yeah,” He shuffles his feet, feeling out of his element, “How do you know Andy?”

Freezerburn--Joe--laughs, “Really?” He asks, still laughing, “I’m his boyfriend, dude. He’s never said anything?”

The anxiety disappeared, leaving mild annoyance in its place. Patrick rolled his eyes.

“No, because he apparently thinks that he can give my personal information out to anyone and not offer any back,” He says, miffed at Andy. Nonetheless, Patrick offers a hand to Joe, which the other man shakes happily, “Anyways, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve got to run, but maybe our boyfriends and us can meet up for coffee or something.”

“Sure,” Joe offered another easy smile, “No problem. Tell Andy I said hey, and feel free to make fun of him as much as you like.”

Patrick grinned, and rose up into the air to fly away, back to the gym to change back into his formal clothes.

He dialed Andy as soon as he got out of the bank.

“How’d it go?” Andy answered.

“I was under the impression you were straight,” Patrick replied.

Andy groaned, “Was Joe there?” He asked, “Fucking asshole, I told him not to tell you.” Patrick laughed, amused at Andy’s annoyance.

“Speaking of fucking assholes, I have a boyfriend myself to get back to,” Patrick told his friend (who he could hear gagging over the phone) as he landed in front of the gym, “I guess we’ll talk about your boyfriend later, because I am totally not done questioning you.” He hung up and went inside, quickly changing into his normal clothes.

Boarding the bus once again, his thoughts returned to Pete as the adrenaline died, and his heart sank with shame once again. He hated, absolutely _loathed_ lying to him, but he had no choice, right?

Right?

Patrick leaned his head against the dirty window, letting out an exhausted sigh. Sometimes, he really, really wished he hadn’t been born with these stupid powers, because all they did was make everything difficult. Why couldn’t he have been normal, completely powerless and absolutely mundane?

Patrick was dragged from his thoughts by the bus jerking to a stop and slamming him into the seat in front of him, successfully pulling him from his mind. As he made his way down the aisle and out the door, he couldn’t help but stare enviously at the couple that had been sitting two seats in front of him.

They’d never have to conceal an entire part of their identity from each other, and that made Patrick unreasonably jealous.

He sat down at the chilly bus station for a minute, just to watch the people go by. The same envy rose up every time a happy couple walked by. He hoped they knew how lucky they truly were.

What Patrick would give to have that.

(He eventually went back to the apartment--Pete had already fallen asleep. Patrick crawled in and snuggled up to him, letting the weariness that defined his very being carry him off to sleep)

-

“Patrick.”

“Pete, it’s 10am. On a weekend. Stop talking.”

“Patriiiick”

“I swear to God if you don’t let me sle--”

“Patrick,” Pete let out a frustrated groan and rolled over in the bed, throwing his arms around Patrick, “Why are you so _grumpy_ , Pattycakes?”

“Because it’s 10:23 in the morning,” Patrick rolled over to face Pete and saw he was doing that awful kicked-puppy face. He rolled his eyes, but let out a resigned sigh, “What do you want?”

“We need to get up,” Pete pressed a light kiss to Patrick’s nose, “We’re meeting Andy and his boyfriend at 12”

Patrick let out a disgruntled noise and pulled the covers over his head.

“That’s in _two hours_ ,” Patrick grumbled from underneath the blankets, “Two hours I could’ve spent sleeping. But here I am. Not sleeping.”

“You are literally the lamest person ever, Patrick Martin Stump,” Pete pulled the comforter back to look at Patrick, the pout still evident on his face, “I’ll make you breakfast and give you lots of kisses if you get up?”

“You drive a hard bargain, Wentz” Patrick sighed and sat up, then looked at his boyfriend with a faux exasperated expression, “The pout is cheating. You can’t do that.”

“Watch me” Pete grinned, and jumped up to kiss Patrick on the nose. Patrick shoved at him jokingly, which consequently led to Pete falling off the bed and Patrick apologizing approximately 1,000,000 times.

After many apologies and much melodrama from Pete, they were both out of bed, with Patrick pulling on a David Bowie t-shirt and the smell of pancakes drifting from the small apartment kitchen.

Patrick walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Pete’s torso, pressing his face into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. Pete continued cooking while Patrick leaned on him, half-asleep.

“Tired?” Pete glanced at the shoulder where Patrick’s head rested.

“Extremely,” Patrick glanced up at the clock and groaned, “I could be sleeping right now, you asshole--”

“But I’m _you_ asshole,” Pete turned around to kiss Patrick on the forehead, then wiggled free from the smaller man’s grasp to finish up on the pancakes, “And also, I’m making you pancakes, so shut the fuck up.”

“Love you too,” Patrick grumbled as he poured himself and Pete a cup of coffee.

Pete set down Patrick’s pancakes and Patrick set down Pete’s coffee, and they settled into their normal breakfast routine, Pete checking his email ( and occasionally groaning about something his shitty boss did) and Patrick trying to finish a chapter in the latest book he was reading.

/This is the life/, Patrick thought as he looked up and relished in the domesticity of the scene. The little things, like how Pete would grin every time he caught Patrick’s eye, or the way Pete refused to close his mouth when he chewed because he knew that it got on Patrick’s nerves (“You’re horrible” “Love you”). The little things that made Patrick love Pete even more (Even though he was a major pain in the ass).

 _If you_ really _loved him_ , A snide, nasty little voice in the back of his mind spat, _You wouldn’t keep an entire fucking part of your identity away from him, you selfish asshole._

Patrick let out a small sigh, and Pete glanced up from where he had been scarfing down pancakes.

“Whasf wron’?” His voice was muffled from the amount of food in his mouth, contrasting with his furrowed brows and overall concerned expression. Patrick stifled a giggle.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Patrick smiled at his boyfriend, then made a face, “And don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s gross!”

Pete said something that Patrick assumed was supposed to be “your face is gross”, but it ended up coming out as an unintelligible jumble of noises strung together to vaguely resemble actual words. Patrick laughed at him.

After getting flipped off many (many) times, and Patrick rolling his eyes at his boyfriend too much (Pete’s incapable of picking out a shirt, apparently), they finally got out the house and on the road to meet Andy and Joe for lunch.

“Okay, so yeah,” Pete made elaborate hand motions as they arrived at parking lot of a small cafe, “I get that our landlord has a ‘no pets policy’ but what if we...completely disregarded that and got one anyways?”

“We would get kicked out,” Patrick reminded him, completely deadpan, “And that would make us homeless.”

“You’re right, that could present a problem,” Pete parked, grinned his mischievous grin at Patrick before leaning over to plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek and envelope him in an overdramatic hug, “Wouldn’t want my Rickster to be living on the streets, would I?’

“Peeete,” Patrick squirmed unhappily in his boyfriend’s embrace, “You’re gonna wrinkle my shirt!” Pete didn’t reply, just snickered and laid small, light kisses down the side of Patrick’s face.

Patrick turned his head at the right moment for his lips to meet Pete’s, and the latter’s grip on Patrick loosened significantly in surprise. Pete grinned against Patrick’s mouth and moved his hands up to cup Patrick’s face.

Patrick moved to deepen the kiss, crawling from his seat into Pete’s lap and adding his tongue into the equation while their lips clashed together--

“Hey you two!” An all-too familiar voice interrupted them, accompanied by loud knocking on the car window, “Stop sucking each other’s dicks so we can get lunch!”

Patrick glanced out the driver’s side window to see Andy grinning, obviously trying to not laugh. Joe stood behind him, cracking up.

Andy opened the car door and both of them tumbled out, looking sheepish and a bit rumpled.

“Fuck you, Hurley” Pete says grumpily, but there was no real heat in it, “You cockblocking fucker.” He (rather inconspicuously) took off his jacket and tied it around his waist.

“I’m not the one who was about to fuck my boyfriend in front of a coffee place,” Andy shrugged, then looked over to where Joe stood, “Speaking of boyfriend, I would like to introduce the world to my boyfriend, Joe Trohman!” Joe made a small wave.

“You can introduce yourself after we go in,” Andy said, gesturing to the cafe that stood waiting for them. Everyone else nodded and they made their way in, sitting at a booth that was pushed up to a window.

Pete and Joe get along like a house on fire, laughing and making jokes at each other before the drinks even arrive. Patrick and Joe don’t need to be introduced to each other, but Patrick’s happy to get to know him, and is surprised at Joe’s knowledge of music and instruments (they make conversation about that for almost a full thirty minutes).

“So Joe,” Pete says after the conversation died down a bit, “Where did you and Patrick meet?”

Patrick’s heart skips a beat and he locks eyes with Andy. Andy’s expression clearly says _he doesn’t know!_

“Well, we--” Joe glances at Patrick and notices the death glares that he’s sending in his direction, and he looks confused for a brief moment, before a look of realization dawns on his face, “Um.”

“We met at work,” Patrick prays that he doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels. He tries very hard not to meet Pete’s eyes, which are narrowed and suspicious.

“Hey Patrick,” Pete’s brow crinkles and he tilts his head to the side, “I just realized that I have no idea where you work.”

The knot in Patrick’s stomach twisted, “We’ve been dating for three years, really?” He laughed uncomfortably, “I work at a music shop. Joe goes there all the time.”

It wasn’t all a lie; there were ways to get paid for being a superhero, but when work was slow he picked up a job at an indie music store downtown. The Joe part was a (tiny) lie, however.

Pete’s face cleared up and he nodded. “I think I remember you mentioning that, actually” He laughed and threw his arm around Patrick’s shoulder, “I’m dumb”

The conversation devolved into something about a band he didn’t listen to, and the stormy waters calmed, for the most part. Patrick’s knot of panic didn’t unravel, however.

He silently let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’s been holding.

\--

Patrick hates fighting crime at night. It’s harder than day fighting, because it’s dark and Patrick can’t see a damn thing most of the time. He also has to sneak out, which makes him feel dirty. Sneaking around and leaving Pete to sleep alone made him feel even more like a liar than he already is.

He’s already changed back into his civilian clothes, and the walk home is somber. It’s always like this after fights, after the adrenaline's died down and he’s left alone with his thoughts.

They’re mostly the same every time. Shame and guilt mixing together to form thoughts that leave Patrick feeling like shit.

The apartment building looms in front of him, and he shuffles into it, shoulders drooping from exhaustion. The ache in his ribs was starting to come back and all he wanted to do was curl up to Pete and _sleep._ The thought of his bed practically leaves him salivating.

When Patrick opens the front door, however, something’s off. The atmosphere is cold, and it rubs Patrick the wrong way. The door shuts behind him with a _click_ and that’s when he notices Pete sitting at the kitchen table.

“Pete?” Patrick tilted his head, “Shouldn’t you be asleep? You have work tomorrow.”

“Patrick,” Pete’s voice is cold and his words are clipped. He sounds _angry,_ “I could say the same to you.”

“What?” He walks forward a bit, and Pete’s shoulders tense up, “Pete, what’s wrong?”

“Oh nothing! I just wake up and find my _lovely_ boyfriend missing. I, naturally, am very worried,” Pete spits, and his sarcastic, fake-cheerfulness is biting, “My first instinct is to call the nursing home his grandma stays in. Something must’ve happened with her.”

Patrick feels his blood chill, freezing into solid ice.

“So I call up the nursing home, and guess what I find out, Patrick? Can you fucking guess?” Pete stands up abruptly, his knuckles white where he’s gripping the table, “Your grandma isn’t there. She’s not there because she’s fucking _dead_ , and has been for over five years.”

“Pete--” Patrick begins, ready to spill everything right then, right there, but Pete interrupts.

“Don’t, Patrick. Just don’t,” Pete closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. When he opens them again, they’re watery.

“I would’ve understood if you wanted to break it off, but cheating? Really?” Pete’s voice is obviously on the edge of breaking and Patrick feels his heart jump into his throat, and he’s choking on it, unable to get any words out, “I-I /loved/ you Patrick! You-You can’t lead a person on like that and then--then pull something like this!” Pete wipes angrily at his tears, which have begun to run down his face. When Pete begins again, his voice is quiet and utterly _wrecked, ___

“I thought you loved me, Patrick.”

“I do!” The words ripped from Patrick’s throat, desperate and loud. Tears were threatening to spill onto his face, but he didn’t care at this point. All he cared about was getting Pete to understand, because he had it so, _so wrong._

“No, I really don’t think you do,” Pete said quietly, and he grabbed a duffel bag off the couch, “I’m gonna be at my mom’s...please don’t try to come over. I need to think about some things.” Tears were streaming down both of their faces at this point, and Patrick was desperately racking his mind, trying to come up with a way he could get Pete to _understand._

Pete pushed past him to open to door, and Patrick tried to catch him before he went out, but he was too late. Pete was already out the door and Patrick was too _fucking late._

Patrick stumbled over to the couch to try and get his bearings, to try and make some sense of what just happened. His thoughts were a dull buzz and he wasn’t processing anything except _Pete’s gone and it’s all my fault._

In a faraway part of his mind, he was aware that he was hyperventilating, but it’s like he was thinking about another person. Like he had a third-person view on his own body.

Minutes passed like hours, and eventually Patrick calmed down marginally and was able to comprehend what just happened.

He fucked up. He fucked up _majorly_.

Before he know what he’s doing, he’s out the door and down the hall. There’s no way Pete could be at his mom’s already, and Patrick is determined to find him and show him exactly what he’s been doing all those nights, why he’s been lying.

Danger be damned, they can’t end like this.

Patrick flies up into the air and looks over the streets, but there’s no sign of Pete. He lowers himself, and goes down the road he knows leads to Pete’s mom’s house.

Patrick knocks on Dale Wentz’s door frantically, and she opens up with a confused, concerned expression that tell Patrick exactly what he needs to know: Pete’s not here.

“Patrick, dear, are you alright?” She asks, maternal instinct kicking in, “You look awful.”

“Has Pete been here?” Patrick’s words are rushed, and he feels slightly guilty about completely disregarding a greeting.

“No, he hasn’t,” Dale raises an eyebrow, “Is everything alright?”

“Listen, I’ve got to go, but I promise I’ll explain everything later,” Patrick says quickly, then he’s running back down her driveway and onto the street again as she calls his name behind him.

He doesn’t start flying again, instead choosing to walk the streets hurriedly, searching for his wayward (ex?) boyfriend.

The streets offer no assistance, and Pete was nowhere to be found.

Patrick sighed and kicked the ground, frustration rising up in him like bile. It wasn’t /fair./  
He didn’t ask for the stupid fucking powers to ruin his life and complicate everything--

Patrick’s thoughts dissipated when he heard a very, very familiar voice coming from an alleyway.

“Listen, dude” Patrick poked his head around the corner and felt his heart soar at the sight of Pete, then do a double take at the tall, masked man wielding a knife at him, “I don’t have any money on me now, leave me al--”

Pete’s voice cut off with a gasp of breath and Patrick saw red.

Not even realizing it, he drained the sound energy out of the air around him and sent all of it brutally flying toward his target. A scream rang out in the cold night air and the mugger gripped at his head, clawing at the side of his face and ears. The man stumbled for a moment, then fell face first at the ground, unmoving.

Patrick ran over to where Pete leaned against the wall, gasping and clutching his leg. He’d removed the knife, but there was blood all over him, soaking into his jeans and making tears spring up in Patrick’s eyes.

“Patrick--” Pete began, sounding out of breath, but Patrick shooshed him, and tore of a piece of his shirt of to apply pressure on the wound. Pete sucked in a breath, digging his fingernails into Patrick’s arm.

“Pete-Pete, you’re gonna be okay, okay?,” Patrick was barely holding himself together, and panic rose up in the back of his throat. He felt like he was going to be sick, “You’re gonna be alright.” Patrick wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

“Patrick, what did you do to that guy” Pet asked him airily while Patrick worked on tying the cloth around Pete’s thigh, “I-I don’t understand.”

Patrick picked Pete up, causing the latter to yell out in pain and suck in a sharp intake of breath.

“I-I think this’ll explain everything,” Patrick told him, ignoring the look of confusion he got as he rose up into the air. Pete’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Pete was silent as Patrick flew frenziedly towards the nearest hospital, and he stayed silent until they touched back down on the ground in front of the ER.

“Are you Soundwave?” Pete questioned, his voice small and far-off.

“Yeah,” Patrick whispered back to him as he ran into the emergency room.

“Oh...ooh…” Pete nodded slowly, “I think I get it now… Patrick?”

“Yeah?” Patrick looked down at where Pete was lying in his arms.

“‘Love you,” Pete cracked a grin, and though it looked strained and tired, it was the most beautiful thing Patrick had ever seen.

Nurse rushed towards them and quickly took Pete from Patrick to lie down on a gurney. Patrick followed as they wheeled him off, until he was stopped by a doctor and told that he couldn’t come in because he wasn’t immediate family, and he’d have to sit in the waiting room.

Waiting for news on Pete was probably the most stressful time in his life, Patrick would decide later when he looked back on it. He wouldn’t stop pacing and drinking shitty hospital coffee to keep himself occupied. Sitting still wasn’t an option.

 _Eventually_ the doctor finally came out and told Patrick that they’d stabilized Pete and yes, he was going to be fine. However, if he hadn’t gotten here so quickly, the opposite might’ve been true. The doctor briefly praised Patrick for responding so quickly, then stalked off to go tend to other patients.

When he’d gone, Patrick just smiled to himself.

Maybe these powers aren’t that bad after all.

\--

**Epilogue**

“Where are we going, ‘Trick?” Pete asked for the millionth time as Patrick led him, blind-folded, out to the car. They had to take the elevator, because Pete was still relatively fresh out of the hospital and still had to use a cane, but Patrick didn’t mind because it got them down to the parking garage faster.

“I told you, you’ll see,” Though Pete couldn’t see him, Patrick was rolling his eyes. Pete was a bonafide three-year-old, through and through.

“Why couldn’t we just _fly_ there?” Pete crossed his arms and smiled at Patrick, “That’s much more fun.”

Ever since Pete had found out about Patrick’s powers, he’d obsessed over them, always wanting Patrick to demonstrate them. He’d calmed down a little since he saw Patrick break an entire cabinet of wine glasses by just looking at it (“Remind never to make you mad”), but he still loved to bring it up whenever possible.

“Because,” Patrick groaned, agitated, “I’m bringing food, and I can’t carry both you and the food. Plus, it’s called a _secret_ identity for a reason. I can’t just go flying around all the time.”

“I love it when you talk superhero to me, baby” Pete purred, and Patrick rolled his eyes again.

Pete turned on the radio and after that they were mostly silent, except for Patrick laughing at Pete trying to play the air guitar and looking like an idiot.

After about thirty minutes of driving, the road beneath them turned to gravel. Trees lined the side of the road, and as they grew nearer to their destination, the knot in Patrick stomach began to twist tighter. The small box in his back pocket seemed to burn him.

“Okay,” Patrick stopped the car, glanced over to Pete, who was humming some Metallica song, “We’re here. Don’t take your blind-fold off until you’re outside.”

Patrick got out and, ever the gentleman, went around to open Pete’s door for him.

“Why thank you, you sweet Southern gentleman you” Pete drawled in a bad country accent. Patrick giggled and took off Pete’s blindfold.

Pete let out a small gasp. They were in a small grove, surrounded by trees and overlooking a lake. The sunlight hit everything in a way that made it seem almost mystical.

“Patri--” Pete turned back around to look at Patrick, who, to Pete’s surprise, was down on one knee.

“Oh my God” Pete whispered underneath his breath, a smile creeping up his face.

Patrick stared at the box in his hand for a few moments, then looked up and locked his gaze with Pete’s.

“Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III,” Patrick smiled nervously up at him, “Pete Wentz, will you marry--”

“Yes, oh my God, one thousand times yes,” Pete grabbed Patrick’s hand and yanked him off the ground, pulling him into a slow, drawn-out kiss that screamed /I love you so much./

Pete broke away first, beaming at Patrick and Patrick’s sure that he’s never been more in love with anyone in his entire life.

“I love you, Pete” Patrick briefly wonders what good he did to ever deserve Pete Wentz, “I love you so, so much.”

Pete smiles, and it doesn’t fail to make Patrick’s heart flutter.

“I love you too”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos+comments are always appreciated!
> 
> edit** is you could [ reblog this tumblr post ](http://sadspacebear.tumblr.com/post/121649939200/im-sorry-lover-these-day-i-tend-to-lie) that'd be wonderful!


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